


Motherland

by savvybo



Series: Motherland [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sparta AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvybo/pseuds/savvybo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A proud general has made a victorious attack on a Persian fleet that harbored a ship decorated in gold. Decanus, or Dean as he prefers, claimed the ship to be his victory prize and set his sights on whatever lay in it's belly. The war is heated after the fall of the 300, and this golden ship screams importance to Xerxes. Yet little does Dean know that the only treasure worth taking from his find is a small fair skinned slave with wings blacker then the darkest Grecian night tattooed on his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seize The Day

**Author's Note:**

> Did some spell check edits (finally) sorry about that but yeah fixed what i could

Decanus ran the small hand-held wet stone down the blade of his sword as it rested against his thigh. His men were restless at the thought of the battle that awaited over the waves crashing against Mother Greece's shores. He held the dark metal up against the rising moon, examining the freshly sharpened edge. They watched a well lit small boat row its way to the shore-line, most likely cowardly Persian messengers to try to get them to "surrender." Stupid Persians. His archers had their bows ready for if they did something stupid. 

The boat lurched as it hit the ground, it's rowers were chained to it as not to run away from their captors and they kept their eyes down. One lone man stepped off into the water of the beach and walked towards Decanus as he stood and sheathed his blade. The man was completely clothed in dark cloths and leather, as compared to Decanus and his men's more open way of dressing. His cloak ruffled in the slight sea breeze. The man approached him with solid heavy steps, his chin held high as though he were their superiors. 

"Spartan!!" The darkly claden man barked. Decanus approached him, hand still on his blade the thumb running little circles around the end of the handle. His chest was painted with scars of battles past that he gladly puffed out and showed to all who looked. It always had a good effect on foreigners, intimidation was a good tactic. An easy one yes but still good. No enemy that could give them the glorious deaths he and his men dreamed of night after night. "What is it you want, Persian?" He sneared as he got closer to the other. 

"My King has seen your might in battle, the way you lead your men and vanquish your foes. He wishes to offer you a bargain..!" The now clearly smaller man no less then barked at Decanus. 

"A bargain? Really now?" The Spartan grinned. 

"My King asks that you give up this victory-less battle! Come with me and join my God King's ranks. You will be rewarded with treasures beyond your wildest dreams. You will command thousands...no MILLIONS of men! All of whom you can do with as you please!! Come, lead the God King's army. Do not stay here where victory is naught." 

"Victory is naught.... Is that what you and your so called God King think?" 

"Oh No, that is what he knows. My liege is all knowing and all powerful. He has seen your fall." 

"Then your "liege" has seen false. He obviously has seen others, not me and my kin." Decanus chuckled. The Spartan held out his hand to his men and grinned wickedly at the Persian. "Do these look like men who would just roll over and accept the only thing you so called God King promises?" 

"If they were intelligent men perhaps they would do what is best for them and their families...." The messenger snapped. 

"Do whats best for their--- You foolish little man." The larger soldier advanced on the messenger, leaning over him, eyeing him up and down like a hawk eyes a wounded mouse. 

"You threaten their families with slavery and DEATH! And you think you can come here spewing lies of how turning traitor to our motherland would bring glory and riches?!" 

"Mark your tongue Spartan!" The messenger retorted. 

"I will mark my tongue only after yours." 

Decanus grabbed the messenger by the front of his dark uniform and quickly slammed his smaller body to the ground. The leather bound boots kicked against his hard abed stomach and trained thighs before he drove his knee into the Persians lower torso. He pulled a dagger from his sheath strapped to his leg and held it up to the messenger's cheek, pressing it against the skin just barely keeping enough force off to not break the skin. 

"You wouldn't dare! I am a messenger! You do not kill the messenger!!" The man yelled. "Someone stop him!!" 

"Another one of you little flies said something simpler to my king....you know what became of him...." 

"And you know what became of your King! My God slaughtered him!! I saw his head!!!" The man yelled before spitting in the face of Decanus.

"You don't deserve the privilege of speaking of my king...."

Decanus's hand gripped the Persian's jaw, fingers pressing into his cheeks against his teeth. Enough force given and the man's mouth jilted open. He was quick with the other, and his battle roughened fingers dove down the smaller one's throat grabbing his lashing tongue and pulling it far out to show. Preventing the messenger from biting down for fear of harming himself, Decanus pulled the muscle out almost past its limits threatening to tear the thing from the man's sputtering mouth. 

"Mark your tongue Persian." 

He took his blade and shoved it up and through the soft flesh of the Persians thrashing tongue. The man let out a scream that caused an almost sick grin to creep across Decanus's face as he got off the man. He started to pull his blade up and the man's head and body were quick to follow. Blood pooled out of his mouth from the open and growing wound on the formally annoying muscle he kept in his gullet. He was a humble host, so thus was kind enough to allow the man addiquite room to get to his feet before he gave a little tug on the hole his blade had created. 

"MEN!! Do we surrender!?" He yelled out over the shore line. In almost perfect synchronization every man raised his sword or spear or fist, every man on either the docked boats or be it the moist sands. All yelled at once a mighty "NO!!!" that echoed across the waters. 

"and MEN!!! Do we turn our backs and join the so called "winning side" because they have larger numbers?!?!" Again in perfect synchronization a loud "NO!!" bellowed out of the bellies of each and every man there. 

"Will we take the BLATANT DISRESPECT even if it be from a MESSENGER?!" 

"NO!!!" 

"SPARTANS!! TELL THIS PERSIAN SCUM WHAT WE ARE HERE FOR!!!"

All yelled, like a thousand thundering stallions who shook the ground beneath their mighty hooves. Like the roar of a mighty dragon before a fire that could challenge the pits of hell itself erupted from its throat. As though they were all one mighty beast, one mighty creature who reared it's massive jaws and would crush down it's fangs a pawn any who stood in it's way. They hollered out with the force of Greece herself, as she stood for the first time in longer then any could remember as one. As one against the serpent that was Persia and its so called "God King." All as one, one as all. 

"AAAH OOOH!!!" 

Decanus lead the man by his tongue back to his little boat, the men chained to the oars staring at him, fear filled their bodies and showed in their eyes. 

"Go tell your "God King" our answer slave" He grinned at the man pulling him close, looking him in the eyes to see the beautiful effects of fear and intimidation with just a sprinkle of pain. 

Decanus pushed the Persian back, tearing his blade from the flesh of his tongue letting the now split down a jagged line. A small splash of blood sprayed on the wet sands as the messenger fell down into his little boat. The first noise out of his now freed mouth was a cute little shriek and attempts at curses with his new facial modification. He jabbed his finger at the air towards Decanus who only grinned as he wiped his blade on the bottom of his sandle before he re-sheathed it. The man's mouth spilled over with his own red life water as Decanus and other of his Spartan men came foreword to push the Persian boat back out to the sea. 

"And one last thing you may tell your King....I don't much go by Decanus any more...That name fell with my father. Your "God" can refur to me as Dean."  
The other men laughed and hollered as the messenger's rowers no less then fled the beach as fast as their arms would alow. Their Persian still tried to bark orders and commands, though a new speech impediment proved rather tricky. Another Spartan walked up and stood beside Decanus, or Dean as he preferred, with a grin. 

"Such funny little people don't you think?" 

Dean turned to his closest friend and most trusted adviser, Samuel with a slight grin. "Persians...what did you expect Sammy?" Though he was taller and slightly broader in the shoulders Samuel was the younger of the two. Dean thought of him like a brother, even more so then he thought of the other soldiers. Dean could recall many times before he had left his home for the training barracks spent with a younger Samuel and his mother visiting his own father. Samuel did come from a lower wealth family but was treated just the same. 

"Well I'd expect them have something more in their silly little heads then just hot air." Sam said stretching. "What do you think then Dean?" 

"I think tonight will be quite fun. They want to make an assault on us with their fancy ships? Then let them. We may have less in number but we do have oh so much more in stamina." Dean grinned as he turned around and walked back to where he sat before. "MEN! LOAD UP!! For tonight we bring them hell on the edge of our blades and the bellies of our ships!" The men let out a unanimous cheer before springing into action. From a distance their quick running movements would look chaotic, but observed closely one would be able to see they moved just like they would on the battle field. As one. As one body, each being different parts, all equally important to make the whole strong. 

"I hear one of Xerxes's personal ships is out there..." Sam said as he undid the thick roping that held the ship to the shore. 

"Oh really? Where'd you hear this?" Dean looked over at him. 

"From a scout who went up to the cliffs some ways back, said it was all decorated in gold and looked rather pompous. Like a toy! Ha!" Sam laughed. 

"A toy huh....Well...I call dibs on that toy. I want to tear open its belly and see what he keeps inside such a fancy little ship."

"Of course you would, always gotta go for the show." 

\---

The golden ship the Spartans talked about rocked softly in the waves behind a small fleet. Covering the deck besides the elaborate gold embellishments were cloths from all over the Persian empire. The crew looked like any other but a personal guard had been placed on for the diplomats, dignitaries, and their personal slaves who rode inside. Most of those in servitude were to be gifts to the king himself, or had been gifts to these others from Xerxes. Men and women of all ages were in the serving class, all decorated elaborately in gold save one in the back. The captain's gift for having been so successful in a previous assault on Greek shores. A small dark haired Greek, a young man. He was well built, mostly from when he was a Grecian slave who served a butcher. There was a lot of manual labor in that position. Now he was decorated like an ornament, in silvers and black, blue, and dark grey cloths. It had been decided that silver best brought out his glacier ice blue eyes.

A soft leather collar around his neck that was decorated in silver embellishments. A little hook with a thin chain clasped on that rested on the hand of the man whose lap his head bobbed up and down in. While his own skin was soft and pale, the hand in his hair was rough and tugging. He normalcy preferred to keep his eyes closed to concentrate on the...task at hand. He ran his tongue up the shaft of the pulsing erection that stand before him before wrapping it in his soft pinkish lips and bobbing his head back down. He lacked a gag reflex which made him a personal favorite. He used his hands to keep the sea going man's thighs from squeezing down on his head as he drug his lips up once again. The man let out a groan, and the soft trained tongue could taste pre-cum leaking out from the head. It wouldn't be long now. 

"Shi--- Damn Castiel....!! Who the hell taught you that.....gehhh...they were right.....Greeks make the best play thi--gahhh!" The man's hand dug into the back of Castiel's head and hair, pulling on his scalp. Castiel let out a small yelp against the man's cock as he roughly shoved his lips further down the shaft. Any time now. "No tee---aahhh shit yesssss" The man's head fell back in a groan as Castiel flexed his tongue against the skin. He furrowed his brows as he worked the erection down his throat. 

Castiel did his best not to pull back as he felt the man's release hit the back of his throat. He'd never liked this part ever sense he had come into ownership under any Persian. They always tasted bitter, crude. Perhaps it was the high intake of the strange spices they'd always use in their foods, or the bitter alcohol's they were always loaded up on. 

"Let me see....." 

Castiel pulled his head back and off the now limp dick that lay in the man's spread legs. He slowly opened his mouth, keeping his eyelids half closed. Apparently that look gave for a pleased seductive look as he'd heard it described before, he didn't much care for it. Though it did allow him to keep his eyes unfocused. His mouth opened enough to show the man's semen resting in the bottom of his jaw around his teeth and tongue. He moved his mouth a little, moving the white cream-like liquid around to display better. Moving his tongue around in it, swishing it and swirling it around. The man grinned as he tucked himself back into his leather pants. "That's a good look for you.... You look like an angel almost, even with a mouth full of cum....!!"

The man snickered to himself and shoved Castiel back, sending him sprawling on the rug that covered the hard wood floor. Castiel had to be quick to swallow the load that was in his mouth to avoid it going down the wrong tube and into his lungs which would cause him to choke. No gag reflex doesn't mean won't respond to the wrong things in airway. 

"I'm done with you slave, move." The man ordered and Castiel was quick to obligate. Quickly he shuffled over to his designated area, a little nest like spot in the back made of mostly just fabrics that they couldn't use for the decorations top side. He sat for a while, watching the others whom were decorated in golds rather then the silver like himself. They dawned gold paint, hair pieces, anklets and bracelets and peirceings. Even gold chains, where he his silver. Most of the others as it was were from other parts of the world anyway, and thus had different often darker skin tones then he. They had elaborate white tattoos running over there skin, where as he was given only black. They all seemed to enjoy their enslavement enough, some he questioned if had not gone into it willingly. While their tattoos were elaborate geometric figures and swirls, he got few. The biggest on his back, given by his former Grecian owner was a pair of two highly detailed black wings. They started in the middle of his shoulder blades, hooked up and then draped all the way down to the lowest part of his back. He had become a little attached to them, and was glad they were not defaced like he'd seem some other slaves's tattoos that their new Persian owners didn't favor. He sighed and laid down in his little bed, turning his back to them and what ever obscene things they were doing and closing his eyes. 

\---

The Spartan fleet, though quite a bit smaller then the Persian one that opposed them, advanced and it's men readied their shields, spears, swords, and bows. Dean could see through his helmet the Persians quickly fiddling around to get ready, clearly they didn't think the Spartans would have the balls to pull a full front attack. Their ships may be bigger, but the Greek ships were designed to take a hit and to give a hit. Dean signaled to the others to take positions, the message quickly spread around by the flaggers who stood at the helms of each boat. They could see the Persian anchors ready their bows in the air. 

"SHIELDS!!" Dean heard Sam call out, and all the men threw up their arms and cast a shade over the ocean they sailed on. The distinct thump thump thumping of the arrows hitting the bronze shields echoed over the fleet. 

Dean started to laugh, "This the best they got? PATHETIC! Ah ha hahaha!!" 

"STEADY!! HOLD FAST!" Sam called out and all the men took hold of ropes that lined the edges of the deck. The boat Sam and Dean were on was the first to collide with the opposing enemy ships with steel bending force. On each of their sides more ships crashed into the Persian fleet. This front was still rather small for a Persian attack...Which lead Dean to start to think it was probably for the sole purpous to deliver that gold ship he could now see glittering over behind the one his own had rammed. 

"GO!!!"

The men surged forward, easily jumping over the splintered wood and steel onto the other boat. Dean felt the adrenaline course through his veins as he bounded up and across the boat deck to the Persian ship. His blade met the first ship-hand, the well tempered steel easily cutting through the man's soft unprotected flesh. This was one of a Spartan's favorite feelings; to feel the warm crimson fluid seep down their blade as they drove it into the meat of an enemy. The thrill of hearing the other scream and yell as a Spartan sword hacked away at their limbs, tore away their skin from the bone. When a spear expertly impaled it's target, the sheer force of the thrust sending the person hurling back and off their feet. Feeling the blood splatter across his skin was exhilarating, sent little zaps of energy through the very fibers of his being. 

"DEAN!" Dean heard Sam yell, and on instinct he ducked back. Sam's blade surged around just over his helmet, the sharp blade searing off some of the red decorative tuft on the top before it embedded in a Persian who'd almost got the jump on him. Deep in the man's neck, and when Sam retracted his blade back to his person the warm blood splashed out onto the ship's deck. Things were almost in a sort of slow motion, Dean's senses were at the height of their ability. He was born for this, raised in this, bred for this! War was his Father and Greece his Mother, and he would bring both great honor with each Persian his blade stole the life away from. 

"There! Dean look! The gold ship!" Sam pointed with his sword as he knocked a Persian back and away with his shield. 

"I see it...!!" Dean kicked another off his sword, and dashed forward. He twisted past a Persian blade and dug his into the assailant's side, deep into his rib-cage, before slamming him in the skull with his shield. His well muscled and powerful legs quickly and efficiently propelled him across the very damp wood, and sent him flying to the nearest Persian boat. His men had done well to over run and out fight the Persians here as well. He ran to the helm of the ship before pausing to whip his head around to look out across the waters. There. The last Spartan ship that was not engaged with a Persian boat. 

"HEY!!!" Dean yelled and waved to the flagger. The ship turned ever so slightly and with the push of the water's currents was soon within a good jump's distance. A running start would still need be applied though. He quickly jogged through the mass of falling Persians and hacking Spartans, before setting himself for the dash. He removed his shield for it was heavy, threw him off balance and he would need to use all the muscles in his body if he wanted to avoid going for a swim. 

His heel dug deep into the wet wood as he exploded towards the helm of the boat. Each foot-fall heavy and strong, pounding out against the foreign made ship. Right left right left right left; again and again closer he came to his jump. HERE! Dean felt himself soar, his foot leaving the edge of the boat as he shoved his body into the air. It was a mere blink of an eye that felt like it lasted forever. He could feel the battle around him, the swords clashing, the flesh tearing. Yet he felt calm as he would if he were back in his home Sparta. He could feel her gentle breeze against his skin, the sweet smell of golden wheat growing in the fields out-side of the city. The warm serenity the sun brought him each and every morning. He could see sweet Sparta now, calling him home. But he knew she would not accept him till this task was complete. It was come home with your shield, or on it. That was the Spartan way, and so that was his way. 

In an instant he was back on the sea, the salty water splashing against his skin, the wind snapping against his person. He let his knees buckle slightly as his feet came into contact with the Spartan ship he had waved down. His momentum caused him to need to roll over less he want to fall completely. The roll allowed him time to slow down and re-situate himself and he was up in an instant and thrust out his blade towards the golden ship, whose captain had begun to steer away from the battle-laden sea. "Take me to her, she's mine...." Dean grinned with an almost growl in his voice. 

The gold clad ship was slow, it's decor and flashy appearance weighed it down greatly. The Spartan battle ship had no issue with catching up to the thing. Dean could see there were special guards on this one, better trained ones but they were still rather caught off their watch. Apparently they had foreseen an attack on the escort but not on their ship itself. Fools. 

\--- 

Castiel's eyes shot open when he felt the ship give a mighty lurch to the side, as though a battering ram had collided with it. His head shot up and he looked around frantically. The dignitaries and members of Xerxes's court were quickly getting up, shoving servants off of them or away from their person in a panic. Then he heard the yells. Massive battle cries, footsteps on the deck above his head, thunderous and dominating against his ear-drums. He looked around the dimly lit belly of the ship he was kept at the others who were starting to panic. They quickly started to tug and bite at their leather leashes that bound them to the boat, some were lucky enough to not even have to do that. They didn't need to worry about that though, Cas figured the guard would take care of whoever was assaulting them. Then he saw. How had he missed it, perhaps it was the sudden shock and overload of his senses. Yet there it was. The mast of a ship embedded in the side of the one he rode in. Water was already starting to seep in, as though the boat bled in reverse from a living creature, taking in instead of giving out. The wood groaned and creaked, the steel shaking and twisted like a tree that had been assaulted by the winds of an oncoming storm. 

The water quickly rose, the other slaves yanking at their bonds, shrieking into the air. Where is the guard. Castiel looked around quickly, not moving from where he formally lay. He looked to the door way of the cavern they stay to see the back of that guard he had been waiting for desperately. The man was hunched over on a dark steel blade. Castiel's eyes widened in shock, this was not how he had hoped the guard would come down to them. The water now had soaked his cloth bed, and was rising up against the knees he sat on. The ship blocking the hole shuddered, and a massive wave of salted water pooled in as his ship lurched again to the side; sending him sprawling down to the end of the silver chain that held him in place. It went tight and yanked against his throat, jolting him back as he gagged. The water was rising quicker now, this ship was going down. He could see now, part of the deck. The Greeks were here, specifically the Spartans. His breath caught in his throat, Greece's most brutal people were here. They weren't renowned for taking prisoners OR saving anyone. This ship was going down, and taking Castiel with it. 

He could see men being piled up in the entry way in front of the door down to where he was tied down. He was the only slave left standing down here, the others had either fled and found their fate to a blade on the deck, jumped ship, or taken their own life due to the inability to escape from this fate. His last hope was being clogged by bodies. He was going to die down here, and he could feel it settling into his bones the reality of this simple fact. 

\---

Dean looked out across the sinking vessel, and smiled. He was rather impressed with the damage the ship itself did, and his men? They did what they loved, they slaughtered the foe! Everything was grand, and better yet Sam had caught up to him. 

"For a gold clad ship; the results are really disappointing..." Dean said to Sam with a sigh. 

"Agreed...wait...it's a ship so it HAS to have some space underneath. Did you look there?" 

"Uh...nooo....got busy."

"Of course you did..." 

"Oh shuddup..! Come on then lets go...." 

The turned and walked towards the door where bodies had been conveniently piled up before they felt the boat lurch and shudder. Sam's head whipped around as he hunkered down slightly to steady himself in the sudden shaky footing. 

"Well I think we broke it Dean...! She's sinking fast." Sam looked at the other with a slight smirk. "Maybe whatever's down there ain't worth the trouble huh?" 

Dean thought a bit before standing up a bit more after the initial shudder passed. He could hear the water rushing in the belly of the ship, and it would almost be a suicide mission to go down there now.

"Yeah maybe you're right..."

They both shrugged and turned their backs to the doorway as the boat gave another groan. 

".....Don't leAVE ME!" 

"Did you hear that?" Dean stopped looking at Sam as he continued.

"Hear what? Everyone who isn't one of us here is either dead, dying, or drowning. Come on before you take a dip too." Sam sighed.

"No. I heard something, someone. I'm going down there." Dean turned again and moved some of the Persian guard and ship-hands that had piled up in front of the doorway. 

"What no! Are you stupid?! This boat was just all show!"

Dean didn't pay any mind to him. For all he knew it could be some fancy, pompous Persian diplomat or better; one more of Xerxes's personal court. The thought of sending that god-king one of their heads in a sack made him giddy. 

He easily finished moving the smaller bodies and smoothly stepped into the belly of the ship, eyes adjusting to the dark. He could see what looked like some sort of pleasure room filling with water rapidly, various gold chains and jewelry littered the deepening water. There were even some others in here, though they had clearly died by their own hand. Cowards. He did a quick scan before his eye caught movement in the back of the room. Not gold movement but silver, pale skin and a dark head of hair. A survivor, who strained against a silver chain that held him to the wall. Dean finished the way down the stairs and waded through the water to the chained man. The water was up to his waist now, and only getting higher. 

The man with his dark hair and what Dean could now see were blue eyes that were as sharp as a Greek winter was clearly not of Persian decent. He bore a thick leather collar adorned in silvers and a polished iron clasp. The chain that held him in place was silver and his finger tips had become bloodied in his desperation to pry the thing off his throat. The skin around his neck had gone red as well with his tugging against the collar that bound him there. He only wore a simple linen tunic with a twine belt to hold it on, a silver arm band and peirceings in his ears. Polished steel, iron, or silver cuffs around his ankles that clearly doubled as both ankle jewelry and bonds. He was small and rather bony, but not too under fed. His face seemed serious, and showed bravery in this obvious time of dying. He stopped struggling as the Spartan approached him, his eyes going hard at the other.

Dean extended his blade out, it going just under the slave's chin and pulling his eyes up. "What is your name slave...." 

"...."

"Tell me or I will definitely leave you here!"

"......Castiel....of Greece...."

"I am Decanus of Sparta...looks like you're mine now Castiel, your lucky day. You're a war-prize."


	2. The War Prize's First Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Spartans can be a bit softer then the winged slave thought

Castiel sat quietly on the edge of the Spartan camp, his cool blue eyes surveying the warriors as they ate. Each man was well built, as though he were sculpted right out of marble. He gathered that some men had been lost from their group by the slight melancholy tone, though some still made apperent jokes back and forth. He hadn't been given much mind the release from that watery grave and new though duller shackles to wear around his wrist. The night had gone rather different then most other nights for him had gone before. He had been left for the most part alone give the occasional soldier who would come by to check his shackles, but none had really talked to him. He had over heard the plans for the following day, he was to be taken back to Sparta. The soldier that had 'saved' him had been called back to his homeland. Apparently their attack on this fleet was greatly hailed as a mighty victory, and he was to be celebrated. Welcomed home like a hero. It was late when that same one walked past him, dropping a plate in front of where Castiel sat. Meat and bread. Followed by a glass set down next to it to wash it down.  
"Eat. It's a long trip back to Mother Sparta." He said with a gruff voice at the slave sitting on the ground. 

\---

A long journey indeed. They had been walking for HOURS. Castiel's back and feet had developed an ache. He walked at the back of the small caravan of soldiers who were to go back. Many had stayed behind at the sea shore waiting for the replacements to fill the now vacant positions. Castiel looked down at his bare feet, they had become bruised and bloodied with the rough path they had taken. The Spartans all had on sandles, and seemed less fazed by the rocky ground. The one who held the small chain that attached to his shackles gave them a yank pulling him forward suddenly when his eyes started to wander and feet slow. "Come on! Don't dink around!" The man yelled. Castiel glared at the ground, it had been too long sense he had walked so far. His skin had gone soft. 

"Why are you taking him with us?" Sam asked from the front where he and Dean walked, looking back at the slave. 

"What? What do you mean?" Dean kicked a stone. 

"Why are you taking that slave? Would've been easier to just kill'em don't you think?" 

"Well yeah, but did you see how he was dressed up? He must've been important or somethin'. Besides, everyone's been buggin' me about takin' some form of war prize ya know? Well there. Now I got one!" Dean laughed. 

"That's a shitty excuse man..." Sam rolled his eyes. 

Dean gave him a slightly playful punch to the shoulder, "Oh shut up bitch..." 

Sam grinned, "Make me Jerk." Dean laughed at his response, one that never failed him. 

Hours that made miles passed, turning into another night in the new ownership of Greek's fiercest. He again sat to the back, away from them. Again he stayed quiet. He watched them with un-trusting eyes. Again he was brought a plate of meat and bread, and given some water to wash it down. His distrust grew with each of the five days it took for them to return. With each stop for the group to rest that he was given food and water, and said rations lacked any form of decay. When the meat was as fresh as the meat the Spartans got, the bread lacked mold and the water lacked worms. They were being far too kind. He knew something was wrong, something had to be wrong. 

\--- 

Castiel sat on the small bed against the wall of the room he was given. His tether had been attached to the iron anklet and tied to a metal ring nailed into the hard stone floor. It didn't restrict his movement much if any, just kept him from slipping out the window. Though he doubted he was small enough to even fit through that one. The bed wasn't as soft as the nest like thing that the Persians would keep him in, but it smelled better. Less like filth and the ejaculation of old men and more like dried grasses and hays, a little like wheat. There was a slight musty smell he couldn't deny, but that was probably due to the lack of use this bed had had in some time. He assumed that it had been empty for some time as he ran his hand over the cloth that kept the contents of the matriss held together. It felt like a mix of the grasses and hays along with some goose feathers or duck maybe? Perhaps some sheep's wool in there too. 

His head snapped up when he heard the heavy wooden door to this room start to unlock and open. This was it. He'd been passed about to new owners before, he knew how the first night at their home would go. It was always harsh and rough, he wouldn't be surprised if he'd bleed tonight. He felt his pulse quicken at that thought. It wasn't that he hadn't belonged to soldiers and men of war before, he knew what their hands were like. They were as rough as their thrusts. He knew he would just grit his teeth and bear through it, like he always had. Ball up his fists and accept his place in the world. He knew there were plenty who would take his place, trade theirs with his. So he should be grateful for having been blessed with such a pretty face.

He swallowed dryly as the Spartan stepped into his room. He still had on his breast plate and sword. Did he have a thing for being undressed by another? What if he were to become angry when Castiel wouldn't be able to undo the clasps fast enough? It wasn't Castiel's fault that he knew he would be unfamiliar with Grecian armor and how it hooked on and stayed on. 

But the soldier simply took it off himself, hanging it on a peg before motioning to the slave to stand. Castiel was caught slightly off guard at this order, what the hell could he do standing up? He couldn't think of a damn thing. The soldier walked over, still silent, and took Castiel's jaw in his hands. He was not rough nor harsh, just gently pushed his head to the side, and back again. Then a pawn releasing him, he began to walk around him. It hit Castiel what was going on. He was being judged. Appraised like they would with cattle. It was either he pass this test of which he'd never studied for, or he get's himself sold. 

"What is your name?" 

"....?" Castiel had never had anyone ask his name on the first night before. New owners would often just stick to 'slave' or 'whore.' What ever turned them on more. 

"Last I checked you ain't mute. I know you told me before but it's been a damn long trip and I forgot."

"C-Castiel my lord." He felt his eyes fall to the floor. 

"Castiel...interesting name. Rolls off the tongue nicely..." 

"Thank you m'lord" Castiel swallowed. He balled up his fists as he built up the courage to dare ask the soldier what was going on. "Sir....what do you want me to do." 

"Come again?"

"I'm sure you are of high enough intelligence to know the kind of servant I am. That is why you took me is it not? What would you like me to do. I've been told I have a soft mouth m'lord..." 

"Do you now?" He could hear the rise of the soldier's eyebrows. 

"Yes m'lord." 

"These wings, these tattoos, they look to be of Greek origin?" 

"Huh? Oh...ye-yes. I have been in the service of Greeks before."

"Hmm....They fit. Look nice." The soldier mused as he started to walk to the front of the slave again. 

Castiel felt himself sigh. At least he would not be forced to go through what he had seen many other slaves go through. The brutal tattoo/mark removals always left such horrid scars. He had known a few who had gotten sick after such a thing and up and died. Yet again the gods had shown him mercy it would seem. He would apperently be keeping them, and this owner seemed pleased with him all around by the tone of voice he used. "Thank you m'lord..." 

"Name's Decanus. But I prefer Dean. You can call me Dean." 

"M'lord?" 

"Dean."

"....Dean?" 

"Yeah, since your Cas, I'm Dean." Dean smiled. Castiel noticed he kind of liked that smile. It looked soft, kind and oddly pure for a Spartan. Though that's not saying he had spent much time around Spartans and watching them smile. 

"Is there anything you would like me to do for you......Dean?" 

"Uhm...Nope." Dean shrugged. 

"Excuse me?" Castiel looked up at him. 

"Well this is your first day here, you look tired, and I'd figure you should get some rest. Get to know your surroundings. So on that note, night Cas." The soldier turned and headed out of the room. 

"Tha...thank you, Dean." 

Dean stopped, turning back some, "Hmm?" 

"Thank you Dean, goodnight..." Castiel's eyes slowly looked up, and the Spartan smiled at him again. 

"Not sure what you're saying that for, but yeah sure." And the door closed. Castiel was alone. He could not remember the last time he had spent a first day under new ownership alone. Yet here it was, and in the ownership of Dean, a Spartan. A people not really known for mercy or kindness. Though here he was. He sat down and looked out the window at the moon rising. He was granted something he found very kind indeed. Sleep. He felt himself smile as he lay down. Even had a blanket. He would sleep well tonight, and he knew that.

It was just under a week before Dean was gone again, back out to the battle front. The one who went by Sam went with him. Castiel again was baffled, in that time that his newest owner was at his home, nothing happened. Castiel had been given sets of kilts and shoes and tunics to wear, like other slaves, but he had for the most part been left to his own devices. He still wore a leather collar, but it wasn't too tight and after the first night he didn't find himself chained to the bed. Though he'd noticed that there were some slaves who did have lash marks. 

"What happened to that one?" Castiel asked the only other servant who would talk to him, Megan. She was a house-keeping servant, not one designated for pleasure. She had long dark curled hair and full cheeks. She tended to lean to the sarcastic side, and liked to pester other servants. But Castiel had found she was quite nice once you actually sat her down to talk. 

"He abused the privileges given here and tried to run...idiot." Meg rolled her eyes. 

"Wh-what do you mean?" Castiel felt a shiver go down his spine. 

"The dumb-ass tried to run, when 'round here the treatment to us is really nice. Had to be reminded his place. Don't worry, I know you know that what we got goin' here? It's good. You won't be a dumb-ass will you?" She smirked.

"N-No! No you're right! It's good here...." Castiel's voice drifted off, he was sure even she could tell his normal occupation among the slave ranks. He would be considered one of the higher-ups among slaves, being one conditioned for bringing pleasure to the master. The pleasure servants most often always got the best food, best clothes, and best quarters. They had to be kept pretty after all, the other labor slaves? Or house keeping? They didn't need to be pretty. But around here? Oddly, all the slaves seemed well taken care of...except for the dumb-asses as Meg put it. 

Weeks went on without sight of the master. Castiel sometimes wondered if he had died while at battle, and if so what would become of him? Weeks turned into months. The growing season was short in Greece if he remembered right, and that was when the Grecian's preferred to battle. They tended to avoid winter battle due to they all just didn't want to deal with it. It was a pain. Kind of a subconscious agreement among all of Greece's children. 

Castiel found himself doing more laundry then what he'd thought he'd be doing. He'd heard a rumor from Meg that direct orders from the master had come back; Cas was off limits to anyone else. He was untouchable. His body was to be left alone untill the master returned. Cas knew that was an 'if he returned' more then a when, but it still felt nice. He didn't have to worry about much of anything right now. Just had to behave. Be good. And not run away, though it was warm and nice here, so he found he didn't much want to run away as it was. He figured he would gauge how he felt when Dean returned. Sometimes he'd find himself worrying at the thought of his Spartan master's return, fearing it even. Things were so good right not, so peaceful and serene. He would give almost anything for it to stay like this forever. But the realization that it would not came when he saw the trees first starting to change to their fall dress and a cool breeze kiss his skin as it moved down from the North. The days were growing shorter as the nights grew longer. The air slowly began to grow cooler as the harvest started up, yet still his master did not return. 

Then the day came. Dean's return was to be greeted with a feast, the finest fruits of harvest were to be served. The slaves were to be dressed up and made up to look their best. The home underwent a massive cleaning, making the marble and hard stones that made it shine. Everything was to be perfect. Everything. Castiel found himself being made up in the finest silvers and golds, soft silks and beautiful make-ups. He would be serving the master tonight, as he had been chosen as Dean's own personal servant. 

Castiel could hear laughter from the hall as he walked towards the great doors with a tray in his hands. He felt his palms grow sweaty and immediately swore at himself. He had to keep his cool. Keep control. Do his job. He stepped through the doors into a rather chaotic hall. Children were running about, people were laughing and talking and shouting. Some even throwing food to others, or to the dogs that ran underneath the tables trying to get the best scraps from the messy eaters. Dean sat at the head table, it being his house. He seemed to be the only one who's face wasn't covered in grease. 

So he had returned. Had a few new scars and healing wounds but he had returned in one piece. He sported a big smile now, laughing at something that Sam had said as he leaned over to get another drink. Castiel was to serve him tonight, but he paused. He could feel his knees shaking. His breath had caught in his throat when he felt Meg give him a little shove. 

"Move...! Go on! We got things to do!" Meg snapped at him. 

"Oh.....Oh right.....!" Castiel stuttered as he straightened himself up and puffed out his chest. This was no time to cower away..! Now or never! 

He felt his breath catch in his lungs as he stepped into the hall. The Spartan's eyes went right to him. there wasn't even a pause or anything. Didn't even stop his conversation, but his eyes looked right at him. Castiel swallowed hard as he tried to avoid the rather unavoidable gaze of those deep green eyes. He would have sword that they were like an amber ale when he'd first seen them, perhaps he'd been mistaken by the lighting? 

Castiel stopped himself from shaking just enough to poor the Spartan his wine. He could already see the blush forming from the alcohol on the soldier's cheeks. Dean grinned at Castiel as he poured him more wine. Castiel felt himself swallow dryly at the grin, and how nice it was. He wasn't sure how to react to that action so he just dropped his eyes and waited for another request for food or drink. 

The night carried on, the Spartan seemed to have gotten himself very well drunk on the strong liquor served by Castiel. He loudly saw the tipsy guests out, hooting, laughing and hollering the whole time. Castiel was quick to rid himself of the fancy get-up he had been dressed in and to return to his room. He could feel his hands shaking again. Would this be the dreaded first night? He got his answer to his unasked question when one of the overseeing servants knocked on his door to inform him he was to visit the master's bedchamber. He swallowed the knot in his throat and straightened his back. He'd done this before. He could do it again. He keeps his eyes ahead as his feet padded on the cooling stone in the night. The air was growing cold and he could feel it. He hadn't received any winter clothes yet, so he was only wearing the heaviest tunic that had been provided. When he got to the door to Dean's bedchamber, he paused before raising his hand to knock softly on the heavy wooden door.

"...yes?" Was the reply given from the other side. 

"You requested me sir?" Castiel said, his nails digging into his palms to stop his voice from shaking. He always got nervous. He couldn't help it. 

"wha....Wha....Yeah! Yeah! Co-come in yeah yeah" The master sounded very very drunk. Castiel had been with drunk masters before...Sometimes they'd fall asleep before anything too painful happened. 

Castiel slowly opened the door and stepped in to see Dean splayed out on his big bed. The thing had a curtain surrounding it, but it was drawn up to show the inside. When the Spartan heard the door close again, he motioned the slave over to him as he slowly pushed himself into a half sitting up position. Castiel was quick to notice that this soldier was unwed, very strange for one with looks as fine as hi--why was Castiel thinking this about his owner. Castiel approached slowly stopping at the end of the bed. 

"Go on....sit down..." Dean said rubbing his eyes. Castiel sat. 

He could feel the Spartan moving closer, closer and closer. Castiel closed his eyes, steadied his breathing. Life was good here, even if he was to be put back to his original use. He felt hands lay him back. He forced himself to keep from going stiff and allow the hands to lay him back. But where he found himself not where he'd imagined. His head was in the lap of another like it had been many times before, but instead of a hand guiding and shoving his head down, it ran through his hair softly. 

"Never had a servant like you before....feels kinda weird. Don't much know what to do with you..." Dean said, his speech was a bit slurred, but Castiel could hear the truth. He still kept quiet. 

"You're conditioned to bring pleasure right..?" Dean asked. 

"....Yes'er" Castiel replied quietly. He was confused at the soft touches to his hair. 

"Well....I know what I want to do..." Dean gave a goofy grin as he laid back. His hand kept going through the smaller one's hair instead of doing what Castiel thought it should be doing. The other hand came up, and Castiel having been so caught off guard and confused by the other limb's actions he let himself slip up and flinch. The soldier's hand pulled back as he looked down at the other who's head still rested in his lap. His brows furrowed and he huffed. 

"Come up here..." Dean said quietly. Castiel obeyed. The arm that had caught him off guard then went around his shoulders, and pulled him down so his head was resting on the stomach/chest of the Spartan. Castiel felt himself go stiff with confusion. This had never happened like this before. 

"Figured.....if you're going to warm my bed might as well be here to enjoy it...You're here for pleasure....well seems I feel experimental." Dean stuttered, his lips heavy with the booze. Castiel just nodded. He was fine with this. It was far better then what he'd thought would happen with a drunk Spartan. 

"You do know.....Sometime I'll probably want to hear you moan...." Dean's slurred speech wafted across the quiet room as his hand ran over Castiel's wing tattoos. 

Sometime. 

That was better then this time. Castiel even felt himself smile. Been a long time since he'd had an attractive owner...Maybe he'd even like this one. The night was cold anyway, it was slightly nice to have another source of heat in the bed next to him. Perhaps that's what the Spartan had wanted in his drunk stupor. Drunk people can have strange thoughts. 

"Alright..." Castiel said quietly, accepting it. 

"You will moan....It's no fun if the other don't like it anyway......."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY an update! Sorry for all the spelling errors, i know they're there, but please bare with me for the sake of the story?


	3. Truths and Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's gonna be a bit shorter then the others, because shorter parts means quicker updates!

It had been about two weeks since the night Castiel had lain in his master's bed. Two weeks sence he'd really just....lain there. Like some form of stuffed animal he put it, just something to be held. He'd noticed that the master had a thing for getting completely plastered at parties, and he also had a thing for hosting parties. It seemed to be something that happened almost every other day, give or take. With the weather growing colder, Castiel found himself supplied with warmer clothes, longer tunics and thicker boots, nice warm fur cloaks to drape over his shoulders for when he would go outside. Sometimes he would even wear the soft furs inside, as the multiple hearths didn't seem to heat the entirety of the home. 

Castiel now stood in the court yard, watching the falling snow. He gripped the warm fur around his shoulders, it trapped the heat in just right, even came with a hood, which he had turned up. He blinked slowly at the small white crystals falling gently down to join their brothers on the ground, some collecting on his shoulders and in the little bit of exposed hair he had. He looked down at the fur lined leather boots he wore, tilting his head. They were nice, but like all boots, they had that fun risk of getting wet and staying that way. He smiled a little as he wiggled his toes in the boots and snow, life was good here. He had good warm clothes for the winter, he had room...He felt like he had space he could call his own. A slave, owning things. Such an interesting concept in the long run, but he liked it. He still had been doing more light around the house labor rather then any form of 'services' for his master. Dean had requested nothing of his body in the time he had been there. Not a thing. His head turned up as he heard a light bell chime quietly through the home. Dinner time, at least for the servants. They ate early here, which was again a touch different then previous places he'd lived. 

Those places, servants always ate last. They got the scraps. Here? They didn't seem to get scraps par say. They made their own dishes, while not as elaborate as the master's and guests meals, they weren't specifically bad. Castiel rather favored them, and wondered what Meg and the others in the kitchen had cooked up today. There was a party planned for tonight, so it probably wouldn't be anything too fancy. Something nice, and warm and...home-y feeling Castiel assumed. That thought brought a smile to his face, those had become his favorite kind of dishes. Maybe they would be having some kind of soup today, something warm and creamy. Something that warmed the belly and made your limbs feel all heavy and eye lids sleepy with satisfaction. That sounded perfect. Castiel walked quietly over the courtyard, the snow crunching softly under his feet. He also liked having moments like this. Quiet and to himself, not even a bird calling out. Just...A calm cool silence. He paused a little in the doorway, looking at a tree branch that had found itself covered in ice and snow. 

"What are you looking at Castiel?" 

The sudden voice startled him, making him jump back a little, and initiating an instant bow when his mind took the few seconds that felt like an eternity to identify the voice belonged to his master. 

"Oh....Uh nothing m'lord" He was quick to get the surprise erased from his voice. Quick to get his external emotional signs under his control. That was a very important trick for a servant of his class. 

"Nothing? Are you sure? You seemed to be enjoying yourself standing out there in the cold"

"....Permission to speak m'lord?" 

"Go ahead?"

Castiel sighed before raising his eyes to address Dean properly and respectfully. "I was just admiring how nice the courtyard looked in the snow." 

"Oh? I guess I never realized there was something special about it?" 

"Oh there isn't....Ah I mean it's a very nice courtyard sir! Just, Uh...I don't know how to word my thoughts m'lord" Castiel sighed as he let his eyes drop again as he fiddled with his cloak. "Well, it's just I guess..... I don't have many memories m'lord, of being able to just stand in a courtyard alone when I wished." 

"What does that mean?" Dean tilted his head with a slight confused smirk.

Castiel suddenly bowed deeply, "Thank you m'lord, for all the freedoms you've given me...! I am...Forever grateful for your kind treatment....!" 

"Oh...Wow I guess I didn't realize asking you about what you were doing would get so deep....Look at me would you Castiel?" Dean said, Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. And so he rose up slowly, trying to stiffle the growing blush on his cheeks. He hoped Dean would mistake it for the cold biting at his skin. 

"I like you.....A lot. Someday I hope you'll like me as much as I did when I first laid eyes on you. So please, do enjoy your life here." Dean smiled softly. 

"Li...Like me?" 

Dean nodded, stepping over to Castiel, looking down at him. His hand slowly reaching and cupping his chin lightly in his palm while his thumb rubbed the smaller man's cheek bone. 

"Yeah. Knew I did the moment I saw you...." Dean sighed, as he pulled his hand away. Castiel had to straiten himself after finding that he had started to lean into the warm touch a little bit. 

"How would you know such a thing, besides m'lord....Please do not fool yourself. I am your servant." Castiel said quietly. Dean seemed to frown at this, closely watching the slave's eyes. "I...I am your slave. Your servant. It...Is your will to do whatever it is you please with me m'lord. That is the way of things...."

".......Right." Dean sighed and took a step back, "Carry on then." His voice seemed to be a little quieter Castiel noticed, maybe even sounding defeated? 

"....Sir, please if you're feeling affections towards me, you should....If you ask me, You really should redirect them. Find a nice woman, who would bear you many children. Someone of equal status as you at least." Castiel continued, finding he didn't like these words either. 

Dean shrugged before turning and going along his way, leaving Castiel alone again. The silence was no longer his friend, it now was almost agonizing to his ears. He had a slight chill to his bones now, and gave out a small shiver as he adjusted his cloak and made a rather hasty walk inside. The soup today didn't fill him with the same home-ful warmth as it normally had this time. 

When the party had finally come around, Castiel found himself oddly not attending. He had been informed that his presence was not required nor requested tonight. His job at these events would normally be to keep at the master's side, ensuring his cup was full and he had his wants for the evening. This was the first time Castiel had found himself without anything to do the night of a party...He figured, perhaps it's for the best. Perhaps Dean was recognizing the fact that Castiel was a slave, and to Dean he should be nothing more. And so Castiel figured, as the almost obviously growing affections Dean had for him were being put to rest, he too would go to rest. As he lay in his bed, he thought about the conversation they'd had in the court yard. Dean was showing more then just a want for a physical relationship. Castiel sighed and rolled over, pushing it out of his mind. The image of what that would be like, to be close to someone like that. Not to just be a physical thing for them to find sexual pleasure, but to be wanted for himself and not just his body. That sort of fantasy didn't happen for slaves. He thought of all his years in Persian captivity and ownership, and it had been...very well taught as to what he was, a slave. And a slave, was all he would ever be, and that was the end of it. Slave's do not get emotional preference from their masters. Physical, maybe. Anything else was just in the slave's mind, made up scenarios that were worthy of laughing at. Such a shame, he had found...He rather liked to be with the Spartan he now called master. He found he was regretting what he said, but it couldn't be helped. The truth had to come out sometime.

Castiel was startled awake at the sound of his door being thrust open with a good amount of vigor, and someone calling to another to calm down. He sat bolt upright in his bed to see a very very drunk Dean, face all kissed red by booze and a look of determination.

"M-M'lord?!" Castiel said with a start, he had seen former masters like this. Those memories...were never good in the slightest. The one trying to get him to calm was one of the butlers of the home, not a slave but still more or less a servant class. Dean made a quick and half sure footed walk to the winged slave, who sat up straighter and started to press against the wall which his bed was pressed against. Dean looked like he was walking up to an enemy in battle, a fire of determination at the sight of a goal in his eyes that felt like it was going to burn a hole right through Castiel. 

Castiel heard himself let out a whimper when the Spartans strong hand gripped his arm and pulled him forward, but he dare not resist. He still had all his 'training' in him that made sure of that. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing whatever happened, the butler wouldn't do anything besides maybe turn away. 

No tearing came. Not pulling of his clothes or yanking off the shorts he wore to bed and dragging his body to the edge of the bed. No turning him over and rough jerking up of his hips and shoving his face down. Just a warm booze smelling pressure to his lips. He let his eyes dare to open slightly, looking at the Spartan who's own eyes were close as he kissed the slave. The hand gripping his arm slowly loosened it's grip and moved around his back, to pull him closer to Dean's chest. The kiss was gentle as one could be when filled with that much want for Castiel. The other softly gripping his jaw, leaving Castiel just about frozen in surprise and confusion. Dean slowly pulled away, looking at him now, eyes to search for something. For some form of reaction from the action. Anything, before they slowly dropped and he began to further pull away. 

"W-wai....." What was he even doing?! Being an idiot that's what. Castiel found his hand going up and grabbing for the Spartan's tunic and pulling him back again, this time taking the dare and demanding that shouldn't be found in a slave, and pressing his lips against Dean's once more. He had not realized just how much he craved Dean's all too gentle touches, the warmth from his chest and smile. This time it was Dean who was surprised, before he wrapped his arms around the other and let his tongue part the other's lips. Letting explore this little bit of Castiel, all warm and sweet, making him think of honey and mint. Tasting his breath in his lungs, feeling the other's very life moving through him and vice versa. Hands ran over his skin, over his back and tracing his detailed black wings as though they were works of pure art that could rival that of even the murals in the temples of Zeus and Hera. 

And Dean slowly pulled away, eyes blown with want but also some kind of drunken restraint if such a thing existed. Castiel was almost sorry to feel him go. He opened his eyes again, staring into two universes of greens and golds. He decided that he wanted to see those eyes like this again, and many times more then that. 

"Not......No.....I'ahm not...Not gonna make you.....moan tonight....." Dean said, his words starting to slur. Not tonight? What why? Castiel would have done just about anything in that moment to continue the soft touches. 

"M'lord?" 

"Ah Wanna 'member't.....f'ever......." He grinned before turning to the butler who remained as strait faced as ever. "Ehy....! Y'can gooo......Ah think Cassy here's gonna.....I think he can'andle me...Ri'te cassy?" Dean said turning back to Castiel, who nodded. He knew that in this moment, taking care of Dean just ment getting him into bed with the least amount of knots on his head from bumping into things. He kind of smiled, Dean really was quite drunk tonight...Then again he didn't have anyone there at the party to make sure he didn't get too shitfaced to not make it to his own bed safely...! 

"bye bye~" He waved as the butler bowed deep and left them. 

"C'mon m'lord...." Castiel said softly as he pulled himself out of bed, slowly putting on a cloak. 

"Dean" 

"Hmm? What was that?" 

"Ah wan' you tah call me Dean now." 

"O-Okay m'l-er....Dean..." That felt weird, addressing his master so casuailly, but it in the end brought a grin again to Castiel's lips at the drunken smirk the Spartan gave him. 

"Ah like it wh'n yah say my naaaame" Dean cooed as he slouched over on Castiel's bed. 

"Let's get you to bed Dean...."


	4. Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one~! Sorry about that, I'm working on another much longer part, but well it's been a little while. Sorry about the irregular updates...but it is what it is. Please enjoy.

"Here we go m-...Dean. Into bed with you...." Castiel said quietly to a now...Giggly Spartan. He slowly lowered Dean down to the bed, who just rolled his head slightly before putting his hand over his forehead and running it back. 

"eheheheehee~ Guess whaaaat I got thoooough~?" He snickered, voice slurring the more comfortable he got.

""What would that be....?" Castiel asked, trying to tuck in the drunken man.

"Ah'ot a real kiiiiiiss from you~ Yoooou like me~!" 

"Just doing my duty...." Castiel smiled softly at him, those pretty green eyes blown wide with alchohol, lids looking now more and more heavy with each movment of the blanket.

"Don't say that....You kissed back. You like me." Dean huffed. 

Castiel just looked at him, tilting his head slightly at the Spartan's stubbornness. "Dean...." 

"Y'u Do! C'mon Cas!" Dean huffed, starting to sit up half way, propping himself up on his elbows. "I like you! A lot okay? I want you to be by my side!" Dean seemed to sport a defiant glare, though it was clearly laced with drunkenness. 

"You can't have a slave by your side...." Castiel frowned.

"If ah wanna make sure y'll stay with me ah'an..." He frowned right back. 

"....." 

"Don't worrrrry Cassy~!" He grinned, a rather goofy one at that. "So, if ah ask you t'stay heree wi'me, wou'd you...?" He tilted his head, watching the other. 

"I'd imagine I would be required to..." Castiel said, he didn't want to acknowledge what had happened. Would be a false hope after all, and he didn't wish to get anyone's hopes up. 

"Not order......ask?" 

"Ask?"

"S'ou could say no i'ya wanted."

"Then.....I'd imagine.......I would go back to my own bed." 

"Ah.....'kay....th'n you're dissmis'd." The soldier said quietly letting his head drop a little, the alcohol in his system making his motions seem more flowy and perhaps even a bit more exaggerated. 

Castiel nodded, bowed, and backed out of the room slowly. He kept his eyes down as he slowly closed the door and started on his way back to his own room. He wondered why he had said no...He was a bed slave. That was his job right? Then why did he feel so bad about saying no when being given an option...? He didn't feel like he would be harmed, like he was in danger in the room with the Spartan. In fact, it felt just the opposite. He paused, turning slightly and looking back down the hall. He was probably asleep already with how drunk he was...

".......s-....Dean....?" Castiel said quietly, peeking in the door. He hadn't knocked, so if Dean was indeed already asleep, then he may stay that way. 

"......mmmy'or back~" Dean cooed from where he lay.

".....My....Own bed seems to be cold...." Castiel said, blushing and averting his eyes slightly. He didn't even know the state of his bed right now, and he had always rather liked it. Why was he basically lying?

"M'kay~ C'mere~" Dean said quietly, beckoning the slave over to him. 

Castiel was surprised again how coordinated the drunken Spartan's overall movements were, as he found himself just being pulled into the bed and right up against the other's strong muscled chest. Arms wrapped around him, tucking him right under Dean's chin and right close to his warm body heat. He...felt so safe he noticed. Just like the first time he had shared his owner's bed, he felt oddly safe. He felt safe in these arms, surrounded by this man's warmth. Calm when he could smell his skin now... He decided he probably should focus on something else. Anything...

"Scars....." 

"mmmm......?" the Spartans response was more of a grunt rather then a hum. 

"You've got so many scars..." 

"N't as m'ny as I cou'd~" He cooed, clearly though the spartan was boarder line sleep. 

Castiel figured he should leave it be, let the man sleep. Spartan's took pride in scars didn't they? They took pride in battle and harshness...And He felt Dean's lips pressing against the top of his head softly. 

Castiel was glad it was dark now, for he could feel an impressive blush working its way up his neck and over his face. This kindness was by FAR unheard of to be shown to a bed slave. To be held close, like ones beloved. The little head kiss he'd just gotten, really were making him quite flustered indeed. He heard Dean chuckle slightly, before the sound was replaced by a quiet snore. The spartan was asleep....

There were quite a few more nights like that over the winter, slowly Castiel just sharing the Spartan's bed becoming a regular thing. He was even starting to find his own bed to be a strange, cold place. He could deny it as much as he wished, but he was beginning to greatly enjoy the time spent with the general. And time together they did spend now, for it seemed Dean was very intent on 'wooing' the slave for his affections. This often confused Castiel, but greatly flattered him. This was a new thing, having someone seek out ones own attraction rather then just taking their body and doing with it as they pleased. 

To put it plainly, Castiel was pretty happy with how things had turned out for him. 

~~

Castiel watched the sun slowly set over the estate as he sat up in Dean's bed. Dean was idly tracing over the tattoo's on Castiel's back, fingers running over each expertly drawn feather etched in ink into his skin. Castiel let out a pleasant sigh when he felt the fingers leave his back and the arms wrap around his hips before tugging him down next to the Spartan. The Spartan was half awake, and planting little kisses all over his slave's shoulder, trying to wiggle closer to him. 

"What are you doing Dean?" 

"mmm.....If I tell you you'll ask that I stop"

"Why is that?" 

Dean paused, looking at him before pulling away and propped his head on his arms as he locked his fingers behind his head. "I want you"

"....?" 

"But....I can't have you can I? I want all of you Castiel. I want your heart, as much as I lust for your body. I could take your body whenever I pleased couldn't I....It wouldn't be too hard." Dean said quietly as he looked at the canopy of his bed.

Castiel felt his stomach starting to go into knots with such words.....such implications. Dean could take him, if he really wanted to. Castiel probably coudln't do anything about it, even if he fought back. While Castiel wasn't by far a small man, in fact he was very well built and muscled, lean but, he was not nearly as in shape and muscled as the Spartan. And how Dean was built, combined with his military training, there was a good chance that if he wanted to take him he could. Any struggle would be short lived in the least. 

"Well....Is that what you're going to do?" Castiel asked quietly, hoping he would at least get some warning first.

"No.....Not unless having your body means I can have your heart as well." Dean sighed again as he rolled to his side, back to the other. 

"....What does that mean?" 

"It means....That I want you to want me. I want your heart to be mine, and I want you not to shy away when I touch you. You still do, I can feel it every time. You get tense and defensive." 

Castiel looked at the back of the Spartan's head, frowning. He was right. Even after all the time he had spent here, how wonderful it had been, his body still remembered how it was before. He realize...He wasn't preforming like Dean wanted. Like his owner wanted...

"Then....Are you going to sell me. I am not preforming as you wish, does that not make me useless? An expense?" Castiel asked sitting up. 

"No. I won't sell you. You never have to worry about that again Castiel....Even if someday I learn that I can never have your heart, then you still will not be sold." Dean smiled as he turned back towards the other and continued, "I do not want your body if your heart does not want me and mine." 

"....." Castiel thought about those words. He could feel them resonate deep within him, and he couldn't pinpoint where. They made him feel....safe again. Safe as he did when he would finally relax in the Spartan's words in the many nights they spent together. "Dean....May I try something?" 

"Hmm....? Uh...Yeah sure....." Dean shrugged as he turned his torso more towards the slave, curious now. 

Castiel himself turned towards the soldier, slowly scooting his body closer, until their noses almost touched, then almost timid like..... Kissed the Spartan. Softly on his lips, no tongue or intensity but more in question, as though he was requesting the soldier's love. The soldier's protection and warmth and stability. 

Dean was caught off guard at the sudden display of affection, the sudden action which Castiel had initiated instead of him, but was soon smiling into it and not pushing for more then the slave would give. 

Castiel pulled away a little, looking at the Spartan, watching him. Dean just smiled at him, more of a smirk really. 

"Hey Cas...." 

"Hello Dean...." 

Dean looked at him, eyes searching for another invitation. And as Castiel moved in again, Dean met his lips somewhere in the middle. His hand slowly moving to rest on the slave's hip, to perhaps coax him closer. Castiel's hands rested on Dean's chest now, as the kiss deepened again, much like that one night not long ago, even though it wasn't as intense. This kiss was slower, soft and guiding. 

".....I don't remember" Castiel said quietly, lips brushing Dean's. 

"Don't remember what sweet crow....?" 

"I don't....remember how to share my heart." He said, looking at the Spartan as though he was expecting to be reprimanded. 

"......Can I help you remember then?" Dean smiled, his voice growing warm and seemingly too soft for a hardened Spartan warrior. 

Castiel paused, looking at the other, and then slowly nodded. He had decided today, after what Dean had told him. He had decided...That this time, he would willingly give his body at least to his master. If he was lucky, he would also give the entirety of his heart. He knew he could feel the want now and then, the light touches Dean would give him as they would pass one another in a hall or room. The warm smiles and fond tone, he was and had always been so gentle since Castiel had come here. Even in bringing him here, he was abnormally kind. His heart would flutter at these, but he was always quick to calm himself and stop the feeling... To protect himself. There was always the thought of all this kindness just being a mask for a monster....

But right now, Castiel decided he would ignore those thoughts. He would ignore them, and let the Spartan have him. 

Castiel looked at him again, and nodded again. "Yes....I'd....I'd like that" 

Dean smiled, and pulled the slave closer to him, right up against his chest. He kissed him then, slow and deep now. Hands moving over Castiel's sides and hips, slowly letting his lips move down over the other's neck.

"It's alright....Just let me take care of you Angel."


	5. Your Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late, but here it is~ Added in a little extra in there for the lot of you~!

"Castiel..." 

"such a good little whore aren't you?' 

"Cas?" 

'you like this don't you~! Look how your ass grips around my cock. Your words lie, slave. Your body tells the truth though. Be a good little whore for me and stop talking.' He could feel the much larger person roughly thrusting into him, his thighs felt wet with the oil that had been used for lube and he was sure his own blood. There was too much fluid to have been just the oil... He had been reduced to begging now, pleading for it to stop. For the other to get off of him, to get out of him. The man only laughed, a sick sort of laugh that made him want to puke. The man had shoved his smelly body into Castiel. Shoved his filthy fingers into his mouth, into his hole, into his core. He was being broken in. Trained to be a good, obedient slave. To be a good bed warmer. 

"Castiel....Castiel are you okay?" Dean was holding the slave's face. Castiel had frozen up when they had kissed, his whole body gone tense and stiff, eyes closed. 

The angel like slave blinked at him, eyes wide as he focused on the Spartan that lay over him and his mind came back from where it had gone. 

"You okay?" 

"....I'm fine, Dean." His response was blunt and monotone, his expression void of any indication of the memories rushing to the forefront of his mind. 

The Spartan pulled back and away, sitting on his heels and looking down at the hardly half dressed body below him. 

"....? Wh...What is it? Did I...? Is something wrong?" Castiel asked quickly, feeling that he had displeased Dean. He proped himself up on his elbows to look at the other better. 

"I changed my mind." Dean said plainly as he moved off of the other and lay out beside him. 

"Changed your....what?" 

"I changed my mind. I'm not in the mood." He said with a yawn. 

"I'm fine! Really, It's fine Dean."

"Never said you weren't" He said softly as he scooted closer to the other before putting an arm over his waist and pulling him close to his chest. "Never said anything like that...Just said that I'm not feelin' it any more, something wrong with that?" He asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Go to sleep angel..." Dean cooed. 

Castiel just blinked, and accepted it. He smiled a little, as he curled into the Spartan's chest, glad the rumors of their verocity seem to be no more then rumors...

\----

Sam frowned, Dean was taking another day to sleep in... He figured it was because of that slave they had brought back from their attack almost a year ago. Dean had shown quite a bit of fondness towards him...Sam figured it best not to think anything of it. What happenes in Dean's bedroom is none of his concern... His concern should be on the Athenian caravan making its way up to the city gates. The men Sam stood around snickered at watching it, all of the guards looked rather small compaired to the average Spartan. They looked like easy pickings should push come to shove and a fight broke out. Sam smiled as he listened to his men wanting a fight to break out just so they could get a little bit of action in the "off season" of their waring. 

The caravan entered the city walls, and the covered carrage pulled behind the large work horses slowly emptied. Sam had always thought it was an exageration, but now he saw it was the truth. Apperently Athans loved the flashy attire and even flashier modes of transportation. The cloth that covered the carrage was all white and pure, accented with blues and silvers and greens. It really stood out to the domonate red cloths worn by Spartan soldiers and Spatan flags. 

The emmesaries followed their guides up the street to the main house of the Queen, leaving behind their companians to be stared down and sized up by the locals. Sam stepped forward, figuring he too would size up possible opponents, if they didn't fight today, they would probably fight in the future. Athans and Sparta were supposed to be in a truce until the Persian threat was handled, but that treaty was shakey on a good day. There was no friendship or brotherhood in the agreement, just "the enamy of my enemy is my friend" and a desire to protect ones home and to just be left alone. One Athanian caught Sam's eye, with his golden hair pushed back and in a simple tunic with a pair of relativly loose black leather sandles. He didn't seem as nervious as the others, hell he even seemed to be relaxing as he leaned against the carrage. He even managed a yawn as he poped down what seemed to be sweets from a small bag hung off of his belt. His skin tone seemed to be a touch fairer then the average Greek, but still showed signs of being slightly sun kissed. 

"And who would you be?" Sam asked with a smile, walking over and leaning slightly to look the smaller man in the eye. 

"Bored." His reply was flat as he turned his eyes to look at the other and putting another sweet in his mouth. 

"What is your name Athenian..." Sam sighed. Great, they brought a joker with them. Sam realized he regretted starting this convorsation, he had no time nor desire to be around tricksters and joksters. 

"Loki. What's it to you moose?" 

Moose. The hell was a moose? "Moo-what? My name is Samuel... What brings you here...." 

Loki rolled his eyes and stuck a thumb out behind him to the carrage he leaned against. 

Sam sighed, "No, not that, why did you come with? You don't look like a guard." 

"I'm not" 

"Then why are you with them? Out of curisoity of course." 

"I dunno. Looked kinda fun. Never been t'Sparta." He shrugged. "Why? You got anything interesting to do?" He raised and eyebrow, eyeing the Spartan infront of him. 

Sam took a slightly uncomfortable step back, crossing his arms over his chest. "No....?" 

"Oh don't get all huffy around me Spartan. I already know the whole deal with all you, and you are kinda right. Someone would protect their lover before they'd protect their friend~~" He said in possibally the most teasing voice Sam had ever heard. He was taken aback, this Athanian had no fear or nerviousness of him. Not in the slightest. Loki just smiled at him, chewing on the sweet in his mouth. "Wanna tell me which one here's your favorite?~ Every one's got a favorite~" He cooed as he shoved off of the carrage and moved closer to Sam. Sam may have had almost a good foot on the other, but Loki's golden eyes were an intensity he had never seen in an Athanian. They gazed up at him filled with some sort of almost child like playfulness, and for some reason that made the larger Spartan uneasy. Something about this Loki character felt off. 

"Ah....Loki doesn't sound like a name from these parts....you from somewhere other then Greece?" He quickly changed the subject. 

"Heh....No...Parents just had a thing for funky names I guess." He shrugged and put his hands up in a mock surrender as he backed away again from the other and resumed his position leaning against the carrage. 

Sam frowned and gave up, "Look "Loki", that meeting is going to take some time. I sugest you take your marry band of travalers and find an inn to stay at for the time being." He sighed.

"Thanks for the tip Moose~" 

"Moose....Loki, I don't know what you keep calling me, but whatever in the name of Hades it is, I am not one. My name is Samuel."

"Ooookie dokie~ Whatever you say." The other smiled and pushed off the carrage once more, moving around the Spartan to collect the others he arrived with. Sam just groaned and rubbed his eyes before leaving the town square and heading to Dean's home, he figured someone should wake him at least, sleeping in so much was going to make him soft and lazy for sure. 

\--

"Si-Dean what are you doing....?" Castiel asked as he slowly rose and propped himself up on his elbows from where he had slept, looking at the spartan who seemed to be entertaining himself with tracing the marks that speckled their way across the slave's back. 

"Learning." Was his simple reply. 

"Learning what...?" Castiel tilted his head as he slowly rolled over, Dean seeming to be unhindered in his examination of the slave's upper torso just moved to running his fingers over his stomach and chest. 

"About you, duh." The question seemed to annoy Dean, as though he thought it to be silly and a question that didn't need asking to start with. 

"Why don't you just ask then....? There isn't much to learn Dean." Castiel sighed and laid his head back down on the soft pillow, letting the other man explore his skin. 

"Because if I ask, you'll probably use questions as answears, or just avoid it altogether. I think I'll learn more if I just study you myself, then I'll ask." 

"That was quite the intelectual response for a spartan...." Castiel said lowly, before his eyes went wide as he looked down at Dean who now looked up at him. He had spoken against his master's wishes, and more so spoken agains thim personally. Castiel had only made this mistake twice in his life as a slave, and both times his punishment was swift and rather severe. After all, slaves don't backtalk their masters, and they for sure do not EVER insult them, which Castiel had instantly realized that what he said could more then easily be taken as quite the insult indeed. Not just to Dean, but to his people, his heritage. 

Dean just laughed, and then laughed more at Castiel's alarmed then confused expression. He clearly thought something was very funny, and went back to tracing over faded marks on the slave's hips and sides. 

Castiel's scars were overall minimal, he had to be kept pretty for possible future buyers, so his skin was decently clear all things considered. But Dean seemed to be able to find each and every one of his scars that his skin stubernly refused to let go. His fingers laced over them, light and soft, just barely touching the markings as though they might vanish if he touched any harder. His eyes were full of an interesting curriosity at them, at each and every one he seemed to make a whole new face. A whole new level of wonder, wonder Castiel couldn't even understand. The slave didn't get why the spartan found his skin to be so curious. Dean was studying it like an astronomer would the night sky. Like a scholar would study works from lands across the sea. Like a general would study war plans. 

"Why....." 

"Huh? Why what?" Castiel perked back up again some. 

"Why do you have these?" 

"...I went through a rebelious stage..." 

"Oh come on, not all of these can be from that!" 

"Oh...well, some of my past owners had more...exotic and enthuiastic ways of showing their affections." Castiel figured that was a good way of wording that they got off on pain and his suffering. He also figured he'd leave out any menton of the ones who were in favor of 'showing off' their possessions and sharing with their friends. 

"Will you tell me if you ever see any of them?" 

"Huh...? Why?" 

"Will you?"

"If you wish me to I can...?" 

"Good."

"Why though?" 

"You have scars like you went into battle. Like you went into a full blown war, but you haven't. Your skin is clearly too fair for such a thing...Your face is too soft. People should know better then to leave such gastly marks on someone who could be mistaken for a work of art then on a soldier who should expect them..."

"Art..?" Castiel tilted his head. He had never expected a Spartian of all people to describe him as a work of art...

"Oh yeah," The Spartain continued, fingers still running over the slave's back as he continued, "Well, maybe a map now...One of those real nice ones, you know?" 

"So...I'm a map now?" 

"Mmm....Yeah. My map." Dean smirked, a finger running along the edges of the dark wings tattooed on Castiel's back. 

"But a map to what Dean...?" 

"Hmm..I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure it's something good." He grinned, leaning over and kissing the angel slave's 'wings'.


	6. Touchable Stars

Life was...Good for Castiel now. It was quiet, and oddly? He couldn't think of many complaints about where he was now. He'd heard more rumors of other slaves here in Sparta, one's who'd earned their freedom. Who'd risen from servitude to equal standing with others, or at least close...even going on to marry and raise families. It sounded sweet really, and brought a grin to the slave's face as he rubbed one of the tunics down a rubbing board in soapy waters. He wondered if that would ever be something he too would experiance. 

"Your eyes always crinkle nice when you think of something really interesting..."

Castiel was snapped out of his thoughts as he quickly looked up, even trying to stand which only sent the bucket of water and clothes soaking wobbling and threatening to fall. The Spartan who'd spoken to him though was quicker, and before the water had the chance to spill even more he had it in hand and stabled. Castiel quickly felt his cheeks going deep dark red from the embaressment of seemingly to have been surprised, or even frightened by the other's sudden words. With his luck, Dean had spoken and even tried to get his attention already. 

"Careful there angel, Gonna make a mess...Now anyway, what were you thinking about?" Dean smiled when the water calmed, before sitting down across from the slave. It was the 'off' season as many of the others claimed, it was calm and quiet even for the Spartan warrior. 

"Hello Dean" Castiel aknowledged him first, before returning to his seat after watching Dean do so. Maybe Dean wasn't going to mention his burning red cheeks? "Nothing, well...Nothing important of course." 

"Why do you say 'of course' angel?" 

"I...Don't understand the question here"

" 'nothing important of course' dont make any sense there. You were smiling, so it made you pretty happy so it's gotta be important right? At least to you, and now I'm curious. Or is it private? Pretty girly from when you was young eh?" Dean smirked as he leaned forward, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion which only caused Castiel to blush more and avert his gaze. 

"No...I don't know why you'd suggest that, but it is false" Castiel said quickly, albet a bit short as far as a slave addressing their master and owner goes. 

"What then?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

Dean's smile faded as he leaned back and rubbed his chin. Castiel found himself growing worried at this, the mood seemed to have changed for the conversation, or was that just his nerves? Had he said something wrong? He hadn't felt any /real/ punishment, at least by his own standards. Just the occasional repremand from a 'higher ranking' slave or a hired servant for forgetting the wash water or being slow on cleaning the floors of the halls. But those were nothing compaired to how it had been before for him, all whips and shackles and withheld food rations. But no, here? It was just...verbal. And even then? It seemed to be more 'constructive critisism' then anything... It had been over a year but he was still unsure, still a bit prehensive about the whole situation because Castiel was a /slave/. He wasn't meant to be treated well... Yet here he was, having a conversation with his /owner/ almost like equals...and with how the smirk fell from Dean's face? He feared he had just ruined all of that. Just like that, he could see it all crashing down and everything proving to be one big act. Things had been so good, it was so damn good here and the smallest things like this made him fear so much. 

His expression must have changed, because when he refocused on his surrounding and got out of his own head, Dean was watching him closely. Eyeing him almost suspisiously, perhaps a bit weary. Castiel didn't want to ask what brought yet another expression change from the Spartan, It wasn't his place was it? 

What was his place anymore, Dean didn't exactly follow traditional rules of slave-keeping one could say. It made things very... fuzzy to say the least. 

"well... I wanna know because I wanna be able to actuailly talk to you instead of just, at you, you know?" Dean continued with the previous statement despite his expression having changed again in response to Castiel's expression change. "You seem to make a face almost like that when I run my hands over your wings... When i trace them ya know? You seem to enjoy it, so you had to've been enjoying what you were thinking about then... Care to share or...?" 

Castiel blinked at the statement from the soldier, it was...decently well thought out. Dean never cessed to amaze him at how truly articulate he really was. How smart he was, the soldier was more then able to prove he was more then just that. 

"I was...thinking about Here."

"Here?"

"Yes, about here, your home...it feels... I don't know really, but I have no desire to leave." Castiel decided to keep the rest to himself, even with the leneancy he'd been show from Dean? That felt like asking about freedom would be another variation of 'pushing it'. 

"Well, it's your home too" 

"Excuse me?" 

"Well, technically, you're a spoil of war, and any self respecting soldier would rather give up his rank then give up his trophies. And you angel? Are one mighty fine trophy." Dean smirked. 

The teasing atmosphere was back, and Castiel internally breathed a sigh of relief. His expression though, was one of minor annoyance at the soldier's blatent flirtations, and this only caused Dean to laugh before standing himself and walking over to the slave. 

"Your home too Castiel..." He smiled, before leaning down and offering a small chaste kiss to the slave's lips. It was more testing then anything. Dean was always testing Castiel's reactions it seemed to how he would respond to the Spartan's advances. 

Castiel didn't much respond to the kiss, though he was already blushing. He didn't pull away either, and with Dean's hand on his chin, he didn't shy from the touch. This seemed to please the Spartan as he rubbed his thumb over the slave's cheek. 

"Don't try and spill the water next time i wanna talk to you okay?" Dean chuckled as he started to walk away, offering a small wave behind him and leaving Castiel with his thoughts. 

When Dean was out of sight, Castiel dropped his gaze as he brought his fingers up to his lips. The kiss hadn't been that deep, but the feeling of the other man's lips was still there. Just barely. It was something Castiel never thought he'd wish for again...to feel another's lips against his. Sure he and Dean had kissed before, but then he'd just been for the most part playing his role. He hadn't had any strong feelings one way or the other. He was technically there as a trophy, and was marked as a pleasure slave. This shouldn't be any different, but...It was. That brief moment was different. Yet then again, hadn't this whole experiance here in Dean's home, his home, been different? 

\---

Castiel sat, waiting for Dean to come back to his room. Back to his bed, to this quiet place for him to study the slave's markings. His fingers fiddled in his lap, his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to work himself up the bravery for the questions he had for the Spartan. Sure, Dean talked to him and his other servants and slaves almost like equals, but they still ate at different tables. Some customs were best left intact incase another less...gracious individual were to grace the estate with a visit. 

Was this wise? Castiel wanted to really interact this night, to really...Return the favor and learn about the other man tonight. To really talk, after so damn long, to finally actuailly talk to him. Would he buckle from the thoughts of it all going wrong or being taken wrong and back down? How many times had he decided against looking over the other man more? Why had he not counted? What would it bring about anyway? Would he even learn anything or would he conferm his own fears? What was he afraid of again? Dean hadn't really given him any reason to fear yet here he was. Thumbs fiddling in his lap and biting off the dead skin of his lips and staring at his knees. 

The opening of the door snapped him out of his thoughts and out of his own mind, and when Castiel looked up he was met with Dean's exhaused grin as the Spartan turned and hung up his belt before walking over and sitting down on the bed next to the slave. 

"I keep you waiting long?" Dean said as he leaned over to work off his shoes before Castiel reached over and stopped his hand. 

"No....Let me, okay?" 

"O-kay..?" Dean seemed a little surprised by Castiel and his eagerness to jump at undressing him, even if it was just simple leather strap shoes. Dean had never made any indication to have Castiel remove his shoes before, after all Dean was a perfectly capable adult who could take off his own shoes. 

Castiel knelt in front of Dean, slowly undoing the ties and sliding off the General's sandals and setting them to the side. "May I ask you something?" 

"Yeah sure, go ahead...." Dean was a little suspicious of just what was on the slave's mind and what he might ask. Castiel never ceased to surprise him and that was an honest to the gods fact. 

"May I do to you as you have done to me?"

"Excuse me?" 

"I...hmm...I wish to study your skin."

"Uh...Sure?"

"Like you do with my tattoos, would that be overstepping my bounds?" 

"Well, probably for most people but...sure why not." Dean smiled softly, when he was tired his teasing smirk often softened to more of a gentle smile after all, and it was one Castiel found himself rather enjoying to see each night. "Want me to just lay down?" 

"That would be much appriciated" 

"On my back or my stomach then?" 

"...on your back..." Castiel decided after a brief thought as his eyes went up to meet Dean's own. 

Dean was happy to comply really, being as tired as he was. The Spartan easily laid back, propping his head up a little with his arm as he looked over his chest to the Slave carefully climbing back on the bed and up beside him. "Go ahead." Dean said as he yawned just a little. 

Castiel took a breath to stop his hands from shaking, before he reached up and unclasped the shoulder strap to the spartan's tunic and pulled it back to expose his chest. Like Greeks were known for, Dean's body was waxed clean. He even still had the light glisten of sweat from the training he'd been at before dinner, the reason his dinner went late in the first place. Castiel's hand hesitated for a moment, before he ran a finger across the Spartan's collar bone. Sure, he'd watched Dean before. Studied his body before. But...This was closer then he'd ever seen despite them having shared a bed for months by now. Typically it was him on his stomach, with the Spartan propped up on his elbow and tracing over his tattoos. But now, Castiel traced over Dean's skin, finger softly moving from one freckle to the next as he found them, and then to whatever scar was closest to that and so on and so forth. 

Why hadn't he done this sooner?

"Having fun over there Angel?" Dean smiled, his own eyes hooded with the nearness of sleep. 

"You...Could call it that." Castiel spoke quietly, before making a rather rash decison, even for him. 

Castiel leaned down, laying his head on the Spartan's chest with his ear over his heart. Dean was surprised to say the least, but the slave simply closed his eyes and listened, listened to the beat of the other man's heart as it pushed life through his veins. The steady beating, the solid pace it held. He wanted more of this...Of this person's touch whom he didn't seem to feel like he needed to shy away from. From the person's touch he actuailly enjoyed. Dean couldn't help but smile, his own hand moving to Castiel's hair and running over it softly. Castiel didn't move away, but instead welcomed the touch as he fell into a strange sense of relaxation at the mix of Dean's soft stroking and the steady beat of his heart.


End file.
